• By Michelle Huynh (she/her)
  • Art “Sunny Side Plop” by Rebekah Barnabas (she/her)

I freefall out of my shell and into a black Teflon-coated pan.
The slippery fat did nothing to cushion my fall.
It’s hot.

A couple minutes pass and I hear, feel, smell my whites
Hiss, Sizzle, Pop,
crisping into hard brown edges.
Granules of salt are carelessly flung over my yellow yolk.
Hey, I’m smelling pretty good.

A jerk of the pan sends me sliding around the metal pan.
Brought to a rounded edge and back to the middle.
Slipping back to another edge and swish back to the middle.
So very close to the edge and—

I’m flying, somersaulting through the air.
So high I can almost kiss the gleaming kitchen hood.
Then I’m hurtling down.
Gravity triumphs again.
But the metal pan is no longer my landing strip.
Instead, it’s a smooth shiny cerulean surface. I hit it.

All I hear is “Shit!”
And my viscous yellow goo coats the blue.